


You Always Were The Smart One

by Lann_the_cleverest



Category: Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lann_the_cleverest/pseuds/Lann_the_cleverest
Summary: During the Young Avengers after-party, David and Loki have a conversation that goes somewhat differently to the comic version.  This fic works especially well with Keiron Gillen's Young Avengers After Party Spotify playlist in the background - I was listening to it while I was writing.





	

“It’s a new year.  I do believe there’s a way humans like to celebrate…” he said, with a trickster’s smile – not just because he’s _the_ trickster, but he looks like he’s mocking me at the corner of his lips.

“Really?  Are you serious?” I know I sound suspicious (I mean, wouldn’t you?), and I see him tense.  He explains things I’m sure he knows that I already know, and I like to think it’s filling time so I can consider my response. 

He’s talking about Norse Viking era culture, and how sexuality doesn’t really exist to him, just acts.  Way to make a guy feel special.  I want to be more than just an act.  I want some kind of deep confession, that he’s watched me as we worked to save Tommy and defeat the Mother, and he can’t get the shade of my eyes out of his head, that I’m driving him crazy. 

The kind of confession Quentin gave me when we got illicitly drunk in Beast’s lab way back before everything went to shit.  I’m pretty sure that’s where I absorbed the feeling of bisexuality.  Hell, the aura of angsty homoerotic tension didn’t need my powers to absorb it – you could cut it with a knife.  I kissed him then, a sloppy make out, but Quentin was never going to be boyfriend material for me.  I’m glad he found Evan and stopped mooning after me though.  But this is besides the point, even if it only takes a second to think it.

Loki.  Trickster God, rocker of the tightest skinny jeans I’ve ever seen look good on a guy.  I mean I’ve looked, everyone’s looked, even America, and that’s probably why she kicks the shit out of him at the slightest provocation; to soothe her fear that he knows. 

I’m about to feed him a line to put him off – I’m still hung up on Teddy, after all – but Loki’s just given me this beautiful speech about having to try and save the world from himself, and it feels heroically self-sacrificing, and I find myself softening the blow, leaning towards him slightly.

“You’re not my usual type…” I begin, and he stiffens again.  And now it’s my turn to give a trickster smile.  “But my usual type is other people’s boyfriends, so…” His eyes dance like they did in the face of those stars that the little green critters showed us when we were dimension hopping. 

“So you should have something else, David.  Something – someone that’s all yours,” he purrs, and he’s suddenly so close that his fur collar is tickling my cheek.  “Not stolen, borrowed or begged.”  He’s so close now, I can smell the scent of magic on his skin.  I shiver, and just before my lips close over his, he whispers, “Freely.  Given.”

Strains of music come on the breeze as we kiss, and it feels like it’s something out of a movie, the lyrics curling around us sing “I wish he was my boyfriend” and a part of me questions if Loki did it on purpose, as we fall into the dew damp grass together with our arms around each other. 

He looks, awestruck, starstruck, America-struck.  I’m half straddling a literal god on New Year’s Eve as the gang counts down from 10 to 0 in the club below, and _he_ looks surprised it’s happening.  I can understand though – none of us really closed our eyes in front of him before, and me kissing someone involves offering that level of trust. 

“You always were the smart one,” he quips, and then we’re kissing again, his hands running up my back under my shirt.  I feel something unlock inside me, a wildness and passion that I’ve been holding back most of my life, unsure where or how to channel it, given too many options from absorbing peoples’ fetishes, likes and lusts since my powers developed.  But this right here feels so natural, and my hands end up one on his cheek, one on his butt.  He’s surprisingly clean-shaven – I’m pretty sure he uses a spell to do it.  But the only magic I care about is the body arching and lyrical moaning I draw from him when I kiss his throat.  I feel all powerful, and he’s looking at me like I am. 

I wonder if he’s finding it weird that we’re doing this. I wonder if he’s ever let someone else take the lead with him before, as I pull his shirt off over his head.  I decide not to ask, not to break the flow as I kiss down his chest, making him mewl and beg, a hand knotted in my shirt shoulder.  If we go back into the party, that, and the bruise I left on his neck are going to be obvious as hell.  But right now, I don’t care.  I have something just for me.  Freely given.  And I’ll take it all.


End file.
